


Episode I: The Saga Begins

by nerddowell



Series: 'Master' Main Universe [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anakin and Ahsoka are movie nerds, Anakin has a crush on his hot professor, Anakin is an adorable drunk bless him, Canonical Character Death, Crushes, Dildos, Inappropriate Class Conduct, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Padme is the Mom Friend, Queerplatonic Relationships, Qui-Gon Lives, Qui-Gon is Done With Life In General, Things Get Dirty From Here On Out, Underage Drinking, schoolboy crushes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:51:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerddowell/pseuds/nerddowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Their seminar leader was young - much younger than Anakin had imagined - with sandy, gingerish hair and a beard, bright sea-green eyes full of humour. He was dressed in the thickest, most ridiculous grandpa sweater Anakin had ever seen, paired with beige slacks. The lecturer, who must have had a good fifteen or so years on him, was better dressed. But god, Anakin could feel the whole room narrowing just to this man with his Fair Isle jumper and his stupid sensible trousers.</em>
</p><p>The main supporting/worldbuilding/extension fic for <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/5803273">Master</a>, a modern university au Obi-Wan/Anakin fic featuring kinks galore and classroom crushes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crush

**Author's Note:**

> If you're thinking, 'Is that title a play on the [Weird Al YouTube parody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hEcjgJSqSRU)?', you would be absolutely right.
> 
> Thanks go to the wonderful [katekenobi](http://katekenobi.tumblr.com), without whom none of this would even have been imagined, let alone written and shared. She is a wonderful human being who is prepared to put up with my incoherent ramblings and spam of dirty thoughts - she deserves all the good things in the world for that alone.

It took a text from Padmé coming through to his phone, stuffed underneath his pillow, for Anakin to realise that he was late for the first lecture of his second year at university. He scrambled out of bed, grabbing his jeans off the floor of his dorm room and yanking them on as he glanced around for his antiperspirant. His phone chimed again with another text, and he tapped out a quick reply whilst pulling on a hopefully clean tshirt and almost tripping over a pair of discarded boots as he flung himself towards the door. He snagged his bag off the desk as he passed and  tried to smooth his wild bedhead into something at least vaguely respectable-looking (meaning, something that didn't make it obvious that he'd rolled out of bed ten minutes after the lecture he was supposed to be attending had begun). When that failed, gave up and pulled a beanie on instead, thundering down the stairs to the front door and bursting out into the courtyard.

He arrived, sweaty and panting, to the lecture and flushed guiltily as he sloped up the stairs to take a position at the back of the hall, where Ahsoka was waiting for him, laptop open and fingers clacking over the keys. He collapsed gratefully into the seat next to her and she passed him the attendance sheet, where he scrawled his name before putting it aside to talk to her.

"New lecturer," he muttered, eyes assessing the tall, leonine man at the front of the class. Last year, the introductory modules had been taught by Professor Yoda and Dr. Windu. He'd missed the introduction, but this year's lecturer was a middle-aged man in a sharp tweed blazer and khaki slacks, with his long hair tied back neatly at the nape of his neck. Anakin prodded Ahsoka with the end of his pen, nodding at the lecturer, who was running them through the course spec for the term and informing them that the expensive textbooks they had all bought at the start of the year would only be used for the seminars, which were to be taught by someone called Ken Obey. Anakin groaned softly, already imagining a crotchety old man in thick Fair Isle sweaters who would call them all 'sonny' and forget where his sentences were going halfway through, like Dr. Rancisis in the engineering analysis module last year.

Ahsoka seemed to share his lack of enthusiasm, rolling her eyes. She was flipping through the student union's societies page, looking speculatively at the fencing and robotics societies which Quinlan Vos headed. Anakin had had Quinlan, a Master's student, last year during several lab classes; he was fun, laidback and with a total disregard for rules, which Anakin appreciated. He didn't see whatever it was that Ahsoka liked so much in him, but then he didn't understand anything about Ahsoka's unfortunate propensity for falling for people who were either taken, would treat her like dirt, or both. He sensed another year of having to behave like a bodyguard-cum-agony uncle, and groaned again.

"Dr. Jinn, apparently," she mumbled disinterestedly, switching tabs to open Facebook to continue stalking, and Anakin slapped the back of her hand.

"Privacy, Ahsoka."

"Quin is a slut who spreads his private life all over campus," she retorted, "there's no such thing."

"And you want to be with this guy because?"

"I don't want to date him," she told him, scrolling through Quin's uploads folder in his photos and snickering at a picture of him, resplendent in a scarlet strawberry costume, astride an inflatable banana in the student venue, "I want to fuck him. Big difference."

"Of course," Anakin rolled his eyes. "Also, Jinn? Really? He's white."

"Have you learned nothing from _Mean Girls_ , Anakin? You can't just ask people why they're white!"

"One of these days, you're gonna stop quoting movies at me the whole time."

" _But it is not this day_ ," she responded in a deep voice, shooting him a wicked grin, and Anakin mimed cocking a gun and pressing it to his temple with his fingers. Ahsoka laughed and clicked onto Quinlan's 'Party Selfies' folder, and they spent the rest of the lecture smothering giggles into their hands as they scrolled through hundreds of photos of Quin in varying stages of drunkenness, wearing all manner of costumes, pouting at the camera.

The lecture concluded early, Dr. Jinn letting them go with a stern glance up at the still-snickering Anakin and Ahsoka in the far corner of the lecture hall, and they packed their things back into their bags before making their way outside. Anakin had a free hour between the lecture and his next seminar, but Ahsoka had the afternoon free and was therefore likely to be off stalking Quin around campus to his fencing society table at the Welcome Fair. Anakin waved goodbye and crossed the quad to the library, where Padmé was visible at a table by the window, her nose buried as always in one of her enormous law textbooks, her laptop and several more library books all open and neatly arranged around her on the table.

He plonked himself down in the seat opposite her with a huff, and she looked up and smiled.

"I got you up in time, then."

"Thanks for that," he mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck and yawning, "otherwise I would've missed it entirely. Not that we covered much, bar the fact that Ahsoka is so thirsty she needs a whole ocean of Quin to satisfy her."

"Gross." Padmé wrinkled her nose, closing her textbook. "Quin? Really? I thought she would have better taste. Or at least a higher regard for not getting God knows how many STDs."

Anakin snorted. "Apparently not. I offered to take her to the clinic, though, when it does happen." He rubbed his arm, pouting. "She hit me."

Padmé laughed, setting her textbook aside and shuffling her papers into one pile, running a hand through her curly hair distractedly. "I've had three lectures so far and they've all given me at least two chapters to read for the next day. I've only got this half hour before I have to go and help set up the debate society's table at the fayre, because otherwise Finis is going to forget the sign-up sheets or put up the wrong banner or something." Finis Valorum was the president of the club last year and had run the committee notoriously poorly. Anakin nodded sympathetically and picked at the peeling plastic backing of one of the library books, wondering how on earth Padmé even managed to get all her work done with the amount of extracurricular activities she did, let alone going out for social mixers and committee meetings and house parties almost every evening. He was convinced she was some kind of superwoman.

"At least Palpatine hasn't tried to have you shut down yet this year," he offered, and she sighed.

"It's early days," she said darkly, "and he still hasn't forgiven me for trying to get the financial board to review the fact that scrapping scholarships to trade-based courses is a terrible idea. I mean-"

"Scrapping scholarships and grants hits the poorest students hardest and deprives them of a reward for their hard work," Anakin parroted in an amused tone, "not to mention that trade-based degrees are important because they allow people to actually get a job after college instead of having studied something like international law and politics and ending up at McDonald's like I'm probably going to."

"I never said that," Padmé argued, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"No, but you were thinking it. You don't have to worry about ending up in McDonald's, Padmé," he told her, squeezing her hand gently, "you're too smart for that. You'll be somewhere classier - Burger King, maybe."

He laughed and ducked as she aimed a pad of paper at his head, and the head librarian shushed them with a glower from behind her desk. Anakin shot Padmé a mischievous grin, biting his lip to stifle the giggles, and she pressed a hand over her mouth before taking a deep breath and smiling.

"Calm. Now behave, or you'll get us thrown out."

"Who was it, might I remind you, who was trying to hit who with their writing pad?" He raised his eyebrows, smirking at her. "It was _you_."

"You told me I was going to end up at Burger King!" she retorted in mock-outrage, "I had my pride to defend!"

Anakin started cackling, and within moments they were being unceremoniously shooed outside by the clucking, disapproving librarian.

Anakin slung Padmé's bag over his shoulder, bearing the weight easily despite the fact it was crammed full of books, and they headed towards the main reception hall where the Welcome Fair was held every year. Kit Fisto, arms full of fencing equipment and with a foil clacking against his hip, rushed past them with a breathless "Hi, Ani! Hey, Padmé!" before disappearing through the double doors, and Anakin waved after him before looking down at his friend.

"Do you want me to stay and help set up?"

"We should manage." She took her bag from him, wincing at the weight of it as she shouldered it on carefully. "You've got your seminar to get to. Come by afterwards though, the union's getting free pizza in and I'll save you a slice."

"Only one?"

"All things in moderation, Anakin!" she called, pushing the doors open, and he smirked as he spun on his heel and started towards the engineering labs for his seminar.  
  


* * *

  
The seminar was being held in a small classroom at the top of one of the tower buildings, with six flights of stairs between the ground floor and the classroom landing. Anakin groaned - trust his luck to get classes in all the worst places - and began the trek up the stairs, thinking back to their new lecturer. He was kind of hot, in the way Anakin would never admit to Ahsoka or probably even Padmé, with the clean, cut-glass accent and the stern looks that never failed to get Anakin's blood up; he had an infamous soft (or not, as the case may be) spot for being looked at like he was a misbehaving child and getting punished for it and - honestly, this is not something he should be thinking about when he was about to walk into a seminar. He bit his lip and took a deep breath, calming himself down, before pushing open the door and taking a seat in the back row.

The seminar was about to begin and Anakin glanced around at the other students, all of whom were either chatting quietly in small clusters around the desks or flicking through the textbook. He sighed heavily when he realised it would be another year of being scheduled into seminar groups separate to his friends'; he'd been looking forward to seeing Ahsoka or Ezra or even Kit, if Quin would let him leave the committee table to actually attend. He settled instead for taking a handful of paper out of his bag, hunting for his sole loose pen, and dumping his textbook in the corner of the desk. Whilst he was still rifling through the inner pockets of his rucksack for his pen, cursing under his breath, the room fell quiet and their seminar leader made his way up to the front of the room.

Anakin glanced up quickly and felt his stomach drop. _Fuck_.

Their seminar leader was young - much younger than Anakin had imagined - with sandy, gingerish hair and a beard, bright sea-green eyes full of humour. He was dressed in the thickest, most ridiculous grandpa sweater Anakin had ever seen, paired with beige slacks. The lecturer, who must have had a good fifteen or so years on him, was better dressed. But god, Anakin could feel the whole room narrowing just to this man with his Fair Isle sweater and his stupid sensible trousers. He could also feel the rush of blood threatening to head south and bit his lip hard, clenching his fists to stop himself. Now was absolutely not the time to get a raging hard-on over his seminar leader who may or may not be the most attractive man he had _ever seen_.

"Welcome to your Digital Implementation module seminar," the seminar leader told them all, "I assume Qui-Gon has run you all through what the module is about and what we'll be covering in the lectures. I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi, I'll be taking your seminars and marking and giving feedback on your essays and all that sort of thing. The boring stuff Qui-Gon gets to escape for the year." He grinned at them, and Anakin fought down a shiver at the sound of that clear, crisp accent in his ears. A full year at a Coruscant university still hadn't prepared him for it, the way it stroked his ears like silk, and he busied himself with flipping through his sheaf of papers for a clean page. Anything to distract himself from Obi-Wan's voice and the reaction it was giving him, that was threatening to wreak havoc in his groin and make him grind his ass against the seat of his chair. It had been way too long since he'd been laid, evidently, if all it took was his (ridiculously hot) seminar leader introducing himself to make him ache in his jeans.

Obi-Wan brought up a powerpoint on the screen and started running through what Qui-Gon had covered in the lecture, pausing every so often to answer questions or to refer to sections of the textbook. Anakin spent  the whole time staring at him in a daze, feeling his cheeks heat and flush red as Obi-Wan's eyes flicked to meet his before looking back at the board. He groaned inwardly and dropped his head to the desk, fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket (no easy feat) and shooting Padmé a desperate text.

_help he's hot_

**Anakin, please tell me you've not developed a crush on your seminar leader two minutes into class. You have no chill at all.**

_padme he's HOT i can't help it look  
[attachment: camera01.jpg]_

**Anakin please don't send me creepshots, that's gross.**

_what i want to do to his ass is gross_

**I'm putting the brakes on this conversation right now. See you after class. I'll save some pizza and you can be disgusting about your seminar leader whilst I pretend to listen**.

_deal_

The room had gone silent whilst he tapped at his phone, and he looked up in confusion to see Obi-Wan with an eyebrow raised in his direction.

"Are we alright to continue, Mr...?"

"Skywalker. Um, Anakin."

"Great. This is actually important, given that I'm trying to teach you about the formula you will need for the lab on Thursday, and whilst it's your prerogative to spend classes on your phone, if your grades get impacted it makes me look like a lousy lecturer."

"Sorry," he mumbled, flushing brighter, and Obi-Wan nodded before turning back to the board and continuing to talk about whatever it was he'd been discussing earlier. Anakin hadn't exactly been paying attention, after all. Then Obi-Wan made the cardinal mistake of turning around to scroll the board over and draw a diagram, and Anakin actually made a small strangled noise at the sight of Obi-Wan's arse in his trousers. He hurriedly thrust a hand under the table and kneaded at his dick, trying to push it down, but there was nothing he could do. His erection - and Obi-Wan's glorious arse - were apparently there to stay.

Anakin whimpered and flopped down onto the table, cursing (and thanking) every god he'd ever heard of for the existence of Obi-Wan Kenobi.  
  


* * *

  
Padmé had saved him three slices of the free pizza, neatly wrapped in napkins, in the store box under the table. She unwrapped one and physically shoved it into his mouth as he stopped by the table, and Anakin blinked in surprise and bit off a mouthful before taking the others and making a despondent face at her. "Padmé-"

"I shoved that pizza in your face to prevent the next words coming out of your mouth," she told him, slapping her hands over her ears. "Eat your pizza and _then_ plague me with the excruciating details of your ridiculous crush."

"It's not ridiculous!" he whined, mouth full, and she shot him an exasperated look, holding out a flyer to a passing freshman.

"Anakin, I love you, but your crushes are always ridiculous." She took another delicate bite of her own slice of pizza and then whacked one of the debate society free pens down on the back of Finis' hand when he tried to steal it from her plate, glowering at him as though daring him to try again. Finis pouted and rubbed the back of his hand sulkily, and Padmé turned back to Anakin, daintily swallowing and brushing a thumb against the corner of her lips before speaking. (Anakin, who had his mouth so full both cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, flushed faintly guiltily.) "Let's not forget the crush you had on every teacher we ever had when we were growing up-"

"Ms. Billaba was cute!"

"She was lovely, Anakin, but she was five times your age. You were _nine_." Padmé rolled her eyes. "And then there was Ms. Allie, and Mr. Koth, and Ms. Gallia, and-"

"You've made your point," he grumbled, swallowing his mouthful with difficulty. Padmé was right. Pretty much every teacher they'd had, from kindergarten right through high school, Anakin had had some kind of crush on. Innocent at first, of course, but the older and more rebellious he got, and the more stern teachers got with him, the more those feelings intensified into pure lust. By the time he'd hit his first growth spurt, he was acting out deliberately just to get them to discipline him. He'd brought home more detention slips than any other kid in the neighbourhood, and his foster parents had been at their wits' end. But authority just _did it_ for him the way almost nothing else did; it was no wonder Qui-Gon's stern expression had made him flush, and even less of a surprise that he would fall head over heels for Obi-Wan Kenobi within seconds of meeting him, purely because he wasn't afraid to call Anakin out in the middle of class for being a disrespectful little shit. He told Padmé as much, and she sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Freud would have a field day with you, Ani."

"Shut up," he retorted, and sat down in one of the folding chairs beside the table to engage Ahsoka, lingering hopefully at the adjacent fencing society's table, in conversation. Padmé grinned, going back to trying to entice young and innocent freshmen into her society (a death wish, as far as Anakin was concerned, because going up against Padmé in debate - which was practically an induction ritual - was like trying to remove your limbs from steel bear traps. When she had a point, she wouldn't let it go until the opposition doubted everything they had ever done, said, and thought. She'd be a brilliant lawyer or politician one day, but it made her a nightmare to deal with sometimes).

"Would you like to join our debate society? - Finis, you could at least help here instead of hovering around the pizza box like some kind of overgrown wasp! - Anakin, _stop laughing_ ," she growled, muttering "useless idiots," under her breath.

"Sorry, Padmé," he grinned, trying to look contrite, but his eyes were still sparkling with laughter, mouth again full of pizza. _Boys_. No manners at all, especially if their last name was Skywalker.

"Miss Amidala." A sibilant voice came from behind her, and she turned around to see the incredibly unwelcome sight of Sheev Palpatine and his idiotic cronies approaching her table. "Trouble in the ranks?"

"No," she said bluntly. He raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"And are you still planning to run for equality officer?"

"Amongst other things," she told him, standing her ground. Picking up on the situation, Anakin stood up behind her, his lanky almost-six-foot frame towering over the short, stocky Palpatine easily. Palpatine smirked in amusement at his protective stance and glanced down at Padmé mockingly.

"I see you've already got a bodyguard."

"I need one sometimes, with the sort of creeps the student union lets in around here," she shot back, with a pointed look at his friends behind him, all of them trust-fund babies with overinflated ideas of being untouchable because of Mummy and Daddy being on the university's alumni and governors' lists. Palpatine's lip curled in a snarl, eyes glittering angrily.

"Best of luck in the elections," he forced out, and Padmé just turned back to the table, arranging the free pens in the pot.

"That's the sign for you to leave," she told them after a beat of tense silence, not even looking up from what she was doing, and they made themselves scarce, muttering furiously under their breaths and casting dark looks back at her table. Padmé exhaled shakily, fidgeting with the stacks of paper, looking up at Anakin, who was still on his feet with his hand protectively on her back.

"That'll cost me when the elections do roll around."

"No it won't. You're popular and people trust you. You don't throw your weight around like Palpatine's buddies and you don't throw money around like them either. If he does get a position it's because he's bought it, not earned it," Anakin said reassuringly. She gave him a small smile and turned, wrapping her arms around him and leaning her head on his chest.

"Thanks, Ani."

"You know I've always been your bodyguard and cheerleader," he told her, grinning. "Which reminds me, you still haven't got me a uniform. I'm thinking pink for the pom-poms and the little skirt-"

"Shut _up_ ," she groaned, laughing, and he beamed at her, polishing off the last of his pizza with one bite.  
  


* * *

  
"So," Padmé said as they left Dex's café on campus, "you never did tell me all the disgusting details about your hot seminar leader." She fixed him with a look. "I hope you didn't take any more photos of him without him knowing about it. Remember how hard you punched that fresher last year when he did the same to me in that bar?"

"He deserved it."

"So I deserve your respect, but Obi-Wan doesn't?"

"I didn't take any more, I swear." He crossed a finger over his chest, blinking innocently at her. "I _swear_ , Padmé. But he's gorgeous, honestly. I mean the lecturer is pretty hot too, all tall and with sharp suits and a voice like-" he tucked his chin against his chest as he tried to imitate Qui-Gon's deep, authoritative tones: " _Skywalker, pay attention_ \- what?" He grinned as Padme started laughing. "He does sound like that! But Obi-Wan is just... He's from _Stewjon_ , his voice is incredible. And he wears these dumb grandpa sweaters, like those thick fisherman ones with the chain patterns you see in knitting books, and these stupid slacks that aren't slack at all, they hug his ass like he doesn't care who's looking, and he's got a beard that's this gingery sort of colour and it looks so soft but I don't think he'd let me touch it. It drives me crazy, Padmé - all I wanna do is stroke his beard." He sighed sadly. "And that isn't even a euphemism."

She snorted, taking a sip of her coffee. "I'll admit, he does sound cute. I mean, he's pretty much climbed right out of the 'Anakin Skywalker's Ideal Man' cookie-cutter, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. At least your ideal man isn't Quinlan Vos." She shuddered. "I heard Ahsoka's making headway there, and I'm not sure I even want to think about what that means."

"You don't have to sit next to her in lectures and get it in excruciating detail," Anakin told her, grimacing. Padmé raised an eyebrow.

"No, I just get it from you, with an unhealthy-sized dose of Obi-Wan fantasies on top." She glared at him. "I swear, the next time you text me ' _I think my wrist is going to fall off_ ', I'm going to come over there and cut your dick off for your own health."

Anakin gasped, cupping his crotch protectively with one hand, and she shot him a wicked grin before ruffling his hair affectionately.

"You're gross, Ani," she said fondly, "but I keep you around. I need someone to laugh at, after all."

"I love you too!" he said sarcastically, and she laughed.  
  


* * *

  
Anakin's cock was rock hard in his jeans as he fidgeted in his seat, spreading his thighs beneath the desk to try and relieve some of the pressure. He could feel the flush in his cheeks spreading down his neck, warmth flowing down his body as he tried desperately to think of anything but that which had been in his head for the past half-hour: Obi-Wan fixing him with the disapproving look he'd given Anakin when he arrived, sweaty and red-faced from having run from the bus stop, shouting at him for being late, and bending him over his knee in front of all of the other students to spank him. He could hear his seminar leader's voice in his ear telling him that "naughty boys get what they deserve" and bit his lip desperately, fighting the intense desire to run to the bathrooms and sort the problem out.

Obi-Wan cast a glance around the room and paused on him, raising one eyebrow slightly as Anakin spread his legs again under the desk and rubbed at the back of his neck, pinching the skin, trying to ground himself. He'd not heard a word Obi-Wan said throughout the seminar, lost in his fantasy, and he had a niggling feeling that Obi-Wan knew it and was a weird sort of happy about it. Anakin would die of embarrassment if Obi-Wan ever even mentioned it to him, if he ever let on that he knew perfectly well that Anakin was aching with arousal in the middle of class. He let out a quiet groan and crossed his legs instead, swearing softly as that only increased the pressure in his groin. He was going to die. It was official.

Blue balls was going to kill him.

He thought about firing off another text to Padmé, but remembered her threat from last time and thought better of it. He'd just have to survive until the end of the hour and then he could run to the nearest secluded area and take matters into his own hands, so to speak. He bowed his head over his textbook and did his best to listen as Obi-Wan ran through another diagram on the board before playing a quick soundbite on the university's student page. Anakin watched the minute hand inch around towards the 12, praying that time would do him a solid and pass a little quicker. He was sure it was slow, it had to be -

"Okay, everybody, you can go for the day." Obi-Wan smiled at them all, tidying his papers away into his satchel. There was a rustle of paper as everyone began tidying up their desks, and Anakin bolted to his feet, grabbing his pad and books haphazardly. He was halfway to the door before Obi-Wan's voice came from behind him, soft and worried.

"Anakin, can I see you for a minute?"

He let out a string of the filthiest Huttese swears he could think of under his breath and then nodded, sloping miserably back to his desk. He ached, every inch of him thrumming with frustration. The rest of the students filed out slowly before Obi-Wan came over to his desk, perching on the one in front, folding his arms gently over his chest. His greenish eyes were concerned as he looked over Anakin's face, the corners of his mouth slightly downturned under his neat moustache.

"You seem to be struggling in class."

"I'm fine, Obi-Wan - um, sir," he said, pleading wordlessly with Obi-Wan to let him go with a look. His seminar leader gave him a sympathetic look and leaned forward a little. Anakin had to lean back slightly and close his eyes with what was almost a whimper; from this distance, he could smell Obi-Wan's cologne and practically feel the gentle heat radiating off his body under his sweater, and the rush of blood leaving his head was so fast he felt dizzy. He kicked himself, hard, trying to force himself to stop acting like a hormonal teenager and more like a responsible student for once in his life. Padmé would laugh herself sick seeing him like this, as would Ahsoka. Thank the gods that neither of them were.

"Are you sure? If you need extra guidance, I would be more than happy to meet outside of class to cover any topics you're having trouble with. That's what I'm here for." Obi-Wan smiled kindly at him, and Anakin swallowed hard, forcing a smile.

"I'm fine, sir -"

"Obi-Wan, Anakin, please. We're not at school. You're an adult now, I'll treat you as one."

"Only just, s-Obi-Wan. Turned eighteen in August." He blinked up at Obi-Wan, finding it strangely easy to sit and just... _talk_ to him, despite the discomfort that had had him wriggling and fidgeting for the past hour since Obi-Wan first walked into the room. He ran one hand through his hair shyly. "I was put in the gifted and talented programme at school, so I skipped a grade. Technically two, I got put up again a couple of years later, but I failed the second time because... shit happened." He swallowed again, tears threatening to well up at the thought of his mother on Tatooine, frail in her last days, clutching his hand and making him swear that he would be okay. He forced a deep breath and glanced back up at Obi-Wan, who was now looking uncomfortable as though sensing he'd touched a raw nerve. Anakin brushed it off as nonchalantly as he could manage, fighting to keep the pain out of his voice. "My mom, she died when I was fourteen... That was the year I failed, so I had to come back with everyone else that year."

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan murmured, his expression full of empathy. "If there is ever anything you need, Anakin, do let me know." He got up from the table and walked back to the front of the room, picking his scarf and jacket up from the back of the chair. "I am here to help."

"I know, sir." Anakin nodded, and went to leave. As he opened the door, however, he smiled shyly over his shoulder at Obi-Wan with a sincere "Thanks."

Obi-Wan smiled back, already in his jacket and winding his scarf around his neck. "Any time."

Anakin texted Padmé again as he left the building, casting regretful glances over his shoulder at the empty seminar room behind him as he went. What had he been thinking, spewing out his entire life story to a seminar leader he'd practically just met and who undoubtedly would not give a shit? None of the lecturers cared about their students' private lives; if they did, they'd never get a moment's peace. And yet Anakin had dumped his mom's death and his troubles in high school right onto Obi-Wan's lap the first time they actually properly interacted, and he wanted to kick himself. He cursed, sitting down on one of the quad benches and waiting for Padmé to come out of her international law lecture, staring at his phone screen despondently. Obi-Wan must think he was such an idiot. He wouldn't be wrong.

He looked up when Padmé settled herself beside him, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his back. She kissed his cheek affectionately and murmured, "It's okay, Ani. I bet he'll just forget about it in no time. You've not embarrassed yourself, it's alright."

"It's not, though, Padmé, because I _like_ him and now I've made a dick out of myself in front of him," he moaned, scrubbing at his face in frustration.

"Don't you remember your first day at high school, when you walked into the girl's toilets because it was the only quiet place in the middle of the day, and I found you crying in one of the stalls? Your first day at high school, Ani, and your mom had just died and you didn't know what to do with yourself. That's okay. It's normal. Grief comes out at the weirdest times and for the weirdest reasons. You're not a robot and nobody expects you to be." She pulled him into a proper hug, tucking his head in the crook of her shoulder. "I remember thinking how brave you were to be there after what happened. I wasn't embarrassed that you were crying, or even that you got mad at me for interrupting your privacy." She rubbed his shoulder gently. "I just wanted to help. And I think Obi-Wan will feel the same way."

"I missed my old school that day, too," he mumbled, "I wasn't just sad about Mom."

"I know." Padmé kissed his cheek again and pulled him up to stand. "Come on. Cheer up. Ahsoka's invited us both out with her and the fencing society, and you can't leave me alone with her and Quinlan all night, I'll go mad."

Anakin cracked a smile. "I suppose I do need to be there for moral support."

Padmé smiled and nodded, taking his hand and leading the way home.  
  


* * *

  
Ahsoka was hosting a pre-drinking session at her house before they headed out, as was the custom for their friend group. Anakin, strictly speaking, should not have been drinking on Coruscant; on Tatooine, he'd been legal - in every sense of the word - for years, but here the age was twenty-one. Padmé therefore frequently took it upon herself to remind him of this fact, but nevertheless let him partake in whatever he wanted, as long as she was there to moderate his intake. He'd never been a heavy drinker anyway, but because he wasn't used to the array of alcohol available on the richer planets, he had a tendency to drink whatever was handed to him with very little thought about the proofage, and would thereby end up absolutely trashed by the end of the night.

Ahsoka thought that was hilarious. Padmé, who always had to walk him home, not so much.

This time Anakin was determined to stick to beer, so when they arrived he took one out of the proffered six-pack and sat at the table, where Ahsoka was shuffling cards and talking animatedly to Quin, Kit and Ezra. Each of the boys had a can in front of them, Quin's predictably the emptiest, and Kit was toying with the ring-pull as he listened to what Ahsoka was saying.

Noticing the newcomers, she turned to Anakin with a beaming smile. "Ani, you came! C'mon, Kit, budge up, let the boy sit."

"I'm older than you, Snips."

"Barely," she sing-songed, grinning, and passed him the deck of cards. "We're going to play Cards against Humanity. Every round, losers take a shot."

"Where's the fun in that?" Quin complained, smirking. "I won't get to drink anythin'!"

"Oh ho ho, fighting talk from Master Vos," Padmé said in a deadpan voice, trying to perch beside Anakin.

"I wouldn't try it, Quin. She's a master at this." Anakin grinned at her and pulled her into his lap, placing his arms under hers so he could reach the cards. She made a disapproving noise, but settled there nonetheless; it was a well-established tradition that whenever Padmé needed to sit down, Anakin either made space or became the seat himself, and there was no room around Ahsoka's tiny dorm-kitchen table for more than two or three people at a pinch. Ahsoka waggled her eyebrows, and Padmé snorted.

"Don't get any ideas, he's already in love with his seminar tutor."

"Padmé!" he squawked, pressing a hand over her mouth and shushing her. She licked his palm and laughed as he made a grossed-out face and wiped it on the sleeve of her shirt, muttering 'nasty' under his breath.

"Not Kenobi?" Quin laughed, eyebrows raised disbelievingly.

"Shut up, Quin."

"He dresses like he's eighty!"

"Shut _up_ , Quin!"

"Alright, alright, Jesus, Skywalker, don't get your boxers in a bunch..."

Ahsoka started the game and poured a round of vodka shots ready. Anakin's prediction ended up coming true; Padmé, who was a master at reading everyone around the table and their sense of humour, won hand after hand, laughing as the others got progressively drunker around her. Anakin ended up cuddling against her back, mumbling sleepily into her ear and nuzzling the back of her neck; she shoved him away goodnaturedly and took his next shot for him, shaking her head when Ahsoka protested that "That's against the rules!"

"He's had more than enough already, look at him. If you want him upright so that you can actually get him into the club, let him stop for a bit now."

"Awww, are you a lightweight, Skywalker?"

"More like featherweight," Kit, who had been taking additional swigs from the bottle in between shots and was still as sober as a judge, grinned. Anakin made a grumpy noise and a shoving movement towards the deck; Kit quickly brought his can of beer out of the danger zone and laughed.

They played three more rounds before Ahsoka clambered to her feet and declared it time to go to the bar. The student venue on campus served watered-down alcohol (or so Quin insisted) and played terrible music, it had to be said, but it was cheap to get into and, as Anakin was fond of saying, it 'got the job done', so they made their slightly unsteady way across the dormitory court to the club on the edge of campus. Dance music was thumping through the speakers inside, audible from the other side of the road, and Ahsoka started swaying her hips as they crossed, singing along to some Togruta hit from several summers ago. Quinlan was teasing her for it as they queued up, and they all obediently fished for their (mostly fake) ID's when the bouncer asked to see them.

Anakin held onto Padmé's hand as they made their way inside, following Ahsoka, Kit and Quin to the dancefloor whilst Ezra nipped to the toilet. She smiled at him and raised his hand over her head to twirl, encouraging him to dance as Ahsoka and Quin moved closer to the DJ. The music changed to something slightly slower as the club began to fill up around them and Anakin scanned the crowd for any of their other friends who might have come in as stragglers. Seeing nobody, he wrapped his arms around Padmé's waist, swaying his hips, and she went with him, following his lead.

"Don't go getting any ideas, Master Skywalker," she teased, "I'm not Obi-Wan."

"I'm not even thinking about him at the moment," he said, beaming down at her. "How could I when I've got such a beautiful girl in my arms?"

"Ugh, your lines are the _worst_ ," she laughed, rolling her eyes, and he smirked, twirling her again carefully.

They danced together for several more songs until Anakin got thirsty and offered to get her a drink. She accepted and followed him to the bar, having to shout over the music for her Corellian Twister. Anakin passed the bartender, Bail - a friend of Padmé's from her course, although in his final year of university - his card to pay, and they found a row of chairs along one wall of the club to sit and drink in peace. Anakin insisted that Padmé sit in his lap again, of course, and although she agreed, she threatened that if his hands went anywhere but the arms of the chair and around his glass, she'd get up and take the empty seat on his left instead. He nodded seriously and lolled his head back against the wall, watching the DJ at his booth.

"Are you alright?" Padmé shouted, leaning close to his ear so he could hear her. He turned his head and nodded, smiling, hand waving her away gently.

"It's nothing."

"Ani, don't. What's wrong?"

"I'm just... caught up in thought." He took a swallow of his drink and touched the side of her face gently with his thumb, smoothing over her cheek. "I miss it sometimes, you know. Being with you."

"Anakin..."

"I know, we weren't right for each other in that way. But you were... it was like coming home to Mom again every time I saw you."

"You saw me like your mother?" She raised her eyebrows, eyes wide, an open-mouthed smile on her lips. He blushed furiously and tried to stammer out a response, tongue tripping over the words as he tried to force out a thousand negatives all at once, stained tomato red from his hairline to his collarbones.

"No! No, no - that's - that's not what I meant, you know that's not what I - ugh, Padmé, no-"

She laughed, taking pity on him and smoothing a hand over his hair gently. "I know. But you do set these things up so beautifully sometimes."

"I just meant that... it always seemed like you'd been there forever and always would be, you know? I couldn't remember having ever been without you by the end of my first week at that school."

She smiled, kissing his forehead. "I forgot what a cute drunk you are."

"I'm not drunk!" he protested, shaking his head and making to get up. She climbed out of his lap and settled in the chair, holding her drink aloft, as he set his glass down and proceeded to attempt a particularly difficult Rhodian dance move he'd seen one of the Masters' students do last year. "Could a drunk person do this?"

"No, but a sober person could do it properly," she giggled, and he grinned and shrugged.  
  


* * *

  
Ahsoka and Quinlan had left some hours before after a fierce makeout session on the dancefloor when Padmé found Anakin again. He was slumped in a chair in one corner of the club, swirling a glass of Starshine Surprise and watching the liquid slop up the sides of the glass with a childlike smile on his lips. Padmé sighed - so much for the student bartenders being responsible and forcing clients to know their limits - and eased him up onto her shoulder. Bail dashed out from behind his bar as the lights in the club started to go up and helped her bundle him outside, Anakin staring up at the stars and beaming.

"Look, Padmé, that one is moving."

"That's a starship, Anakin," she told him gently, sitting him down against the wall and pushing his hair back off his face. He looked up at her, sleepy blue eyes managing to focus on her face after a couple of seconds, and beamed.

"Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

"Mm, tired, I think." He nodded sagely. "Tired. And fuzzy."

"Okay. Do you want to go home, to bed?"

"Can I sleep at your place? I'll take the couch, I promise." He looked so earnest, eyes adorably wide and lips pouty, that she had to smile.

"Okay. Come on, let's get you home. I'll get the spare duvet out."

"I love you, Padmé. You're my favourite person."

"What about Obi-Wan?" she asked, biting back laughter.

"Mmm, him too."

"I love you too, Ani. Come on, down the steps..."


	2. Tongue-Tied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took an unbelievable amount of time to actually get started. I must have written and rewritten the first couple of sections five or six times because I just _couldn't_ get it. I'm still a little unsure about it in places, but hey. It's here, and I'm pretty happy with it overall so hopefully y'all will enjoy it.

The next morning, a miracle occurred in that Anakin, hungover and with a mouth that tasted like a Hutt's arse, woke up first. He stumbled into the kitchen, still semi-dressed in last night's clothes - he'd managed to remove the skintight jeans at least, and was left in his boxer briefs and the Starshine Surprise-stained tshirt he'd been wearing - and fetched himself a glass of water, trying to flush the taste away. Padmé had left painkillers on the side for him, so he popped a couple out of their blister pods and took them with the next massive swallow of water, feeling his stomach roil and bubble angrily. He was rarely one for throwing up after overindulging, but he still suffered the threatening dull nausea and the pounding headache, which the blaring horns and revving engines of traffic in the lanes outside the apartment window weren't helping.

He rifled around in Padmé's cupboards for the bread, jamming a couple of slices into the toaster and sitting down heavily at the breakfast bar to rest his cheek against the granite and regret every life choice he'd ever made in peace. Starting with having told her about the Obi-Wan situation in the first place, and then having drunk three Starshine Surprises and several lethal shots of something Alderaanian that Quin had shoved across the bar at him with a leer that could only promise trouble. _Thank the gods for Padmé_ , he thought fervently (not for the first time), and let out a sigh of relief as the countertop beneath his cheek grounded him and dulled the hammering in his temples. Then the pop of the toaster behind him sounded like a podracer backfiring and he yelped, slamming his hands over his ears to shout, "Sshhh!" at it before fetching the toast and spreading it haphazardly with marmalade to bring to Padmé in bed. As terrible a friend as he was for getting himself into the state where he would have to stay over at hers in the first place, he knew how to make it up to her in the morning.

Padmé was still asleep when he knocked on her door. She mumbled something that sounded like permission to come in, so he gently eased the door open and set the plate down on her bedside table. Her hair was fanned out over the pillow, dark curls spiralling wildly around her face and her chest rising and falling slowly beneath the blanket as she breathed. He'd always been entranced by her, but he found her especially beautiful like this, purely her, without the weight of the world on her shoulders as it always was when she was awake -

"Anakin, stop staring at me." One eye cracked open. She peered at him from beneath the fan of her lashes, and he flushed pink before scrambling off the bed. Padmé laughed, soft and bright like the morning outside the window, and sat up, reaching for the plate he'd left with eager hands.

"You do know how to treat a lady, I'll give you that," she grinned, taking a bite of her toast, and Anakin smiled.

"My mother raised a gentleman."

"Your mother raised a boy who creeps around staring at people when they're sleeping," Padmé teased, "but at least you know how to apologise properly." She brushed the toast crumbs away from the corners of her mouth delicately with one thumb, sucking them off as she blinked up at him and grinned. "I suppose that's why I can't ever stay angry with you."

He settled on the edge of the bed, stretching out his back until he felt the tightness of a bad night's sleep pop. He sank down to lay flat beside her, glancing sideways to run his fingers affectionately over her shoulder, playing with the strap of her nightgown. She didn't shrug him away, knowing he didn't mean it any way but affectionately, and he traced the constellation of freckles on the joint that looked like a star speeder, or maybe a cactus.

"What are we doing today?"

"I need to go to the library," she told him, running her fingers through her hair and carefully teasing out the sleep tangles. Anakin nodded, still fiddling absent-mindedly with the strap of her nightgown, twining it around his fingers in a loop of material. Padmé slapped his hand away gently and laughed, shooing him out of the bedroom. "I'm going to change!"

"I've seen you getting changed before," he challenged, but obediently headed back downstairs to the living room to bundle away the spare duvet and pillows from his temporary bed on the sofa. Padmé shouted something unintelligible over the flow of the shower in response, and he grinned, humming to himself. He tidied away the pots and pans in the kitchen, washing up the breakfast things, and waited on the couch until she came downstairs, hair still dripping from the shower as she pulled it back into a braid, dressed in a tshirt and jogging pants. He loved her on Saturdays, when she left the blouses and fitted trousers of university and debate society behind, choosing comfort over formality. More than one fresher had mistaken her for a lecturer when she was sat alone in a classroom waiting for seminars to start, and backed out nervously. Saturdays were Anakin days, where she allowed herself to let go.

He brushed her hands out of the way and took over, smoothing the damp locks into a plait easily and tying it with his own hair elastic from around his wrist. She shot a look over his shoulder, impressed, smiling.

"I didn't know you could do that."

He waggled his eyebrows. "Magic hands."

Padmé snorted, rolling her eyes. "Whatever you say, Anakin."  
  


* * *

  
Saturday mornings also had a tradition of brunch at Dex's diner in the Coruscant industrial quarter. It was a small, out-of-the-way place where Anakin and Padmé seemed to be the only regular customers bar those who actually worked in the surrounding area, and the waiting staff knew them by name. Anakin pushed the door open and waved hello to Dex, settled as usual behind the service hatch, watching the most recent Tatooine podrace being televised on the small screen in the kitchens. The place was all but empty, a stooping Cerean hunched over a mug of jawa juice at the bar the only other patron. Anakin took a booth by the window and helped Padmé in, picking up the menu from the tabletop and passing it over.

Padmé opened it to the breakfast options and perused it contemplatively as Anakin toyed with the condiment bottles, humming to himself and people-watching out of the window. Dex's diner was located in the dilapidated corner of the industrial district, where the clanging and clattering of metalwork and demolition rattled the diner walls every hour of the day. Inside the diner was fairly clean - cleaner than a lot of the student places on campus, to Dex's credit - but showing the signs of its age and patronage. Anakin watched a trail of goods freighters transporting steel beams towards the shell of yet another massive skyscraper in the distance before Padmé cleared her throat.

"Here." She passed him the menu. "I don't know why we bother looking, because we always get the same thing anyway."

"Makes us feel like we might get something else, even though we won't," Anakin grinned, and Padmé nodded with a wry smile.

"I suppose so."

"Anyway, Saturday brunch is supposed to be our joint bitching session," Anakin reminded her, "and I haven't heard the word 'Palpatine' once. Don't tell me he's actually acting like a decent human being at the moment?" He paused briefly. " _Is_ he human? I could never tell."

"I think he puts on a good act," Padmé told him, "but I'm not convinced he is. No, he's still trying to sweep control of the debate society out from under my feet, because he insists that if I couldn't stop Finis from almost running it into the ground last year then there's no way I'll be up to actually running it. More to the point, he's been threatening to tell the college about the unfortunate incident on Jakku last year-" Anakin winced guiltily, remembering the bar fight he'd thrown himself into to get Padmé and Kit _out_ of - "and naturally they won't understand. It'll be all, _you should know better than to associate yourself with that Skywalker boy anyway, he's been trouble since he arrived, Sheev has been telling us about the fights and the disruptions he causes_ \- obviously glossing over the fact that it's their precious Sheev who causes the drama and you're the only one brave enough to stand up to him physically. Although," she said with a stern look, "you do take it too far sometimes. It's not always necessary to stop a fight with your fists."

"It's the only way those idiot friends of his learn!"

"It's a sure-fire way to get your scholarship cancelled and land you a one-way ticket back to Tatooine!" Padmé retorted heatedly. "I can't defend you all the time, Anakin. You need to control your anger sometimes - it frightens me how you're always 'punch first, ask questions later'." She reached out and gently pushed an errant lock of hair back behind his ear, her eyes soft and concerned. "You know I wouldn't let them send you back, though. My couch always has a space with your name on it."

"Thanks," he mumbled, smiling shyly at her. She was right; he did let his temper get the better of him far too often. But he didn't take kindly to a lot of the things Palpatine's grubby friends said about Tatooine, particularly about people who had been born into the kind of slavery that their silver-spoon families would never have to know and never did anything to help. Not to mention the time that Mas Amedda had referred to his mother in terms that Anakin wouldn't even use to speak to a granite slug. At that point, it wasn't even solely Anakin's pride he was defending. The memory of his mother was and always had been sacred, and anyone who infringed upon that would feel his wrath a thousand times over. He'd been lucky that Padmé and Kit had been there to restrain him, otherwise gods only knew what he would have done to Amedda before the campus security was called.

The other thing that rubbed Anakin the wrong way about Palpatine was a lingering feeling of something deeply unnatural. He was innocent-enough looking - it was his friends who all had that aura of knuckle-dragging idiocy and violence about them - but Palpatine reminded him of a poisonous spider in the centre of a web, and it made him uneasy. Add that to the unhealthy interest Palpatine seemed to have in dragging Padmé through the dirt, and there was a recipe for Anakin's distress and defensiveness. Padmé was the one person whose harm could cut deeper than anyone else's.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, shuffling closer to her. "It's my fault that I let him get to me. I just wish he'd leave you alone."

"That's what men like him do, Anakin," she told him gently, sadly, "they exploit your weaknesses to make you miserable. And Palpatine knows both of us well enough to know that if he makes some stupid comment about me or your mother to you, the only thing that's going to stop you from punching his lights out is someone dragging you off him. I know 'just ignore him' is easier said than done, but you can't give him what he wants. I can handle myself and I don't always need you to come rushing in blindly - no, let me speak," she said sternly as he opened his mouth to protest, outraged, "- but I care about you and I don't want you to lose everything you've worked for to get here just because of him and his morons." She grinned at him. "I don't want to lose the entertainment of their faces whenever you beat them, though." She beamed, remembering. "That rugby match was spectacular."

"Not my fault I'm the fastest," Anakin grinned, and she laughed, high-fiving him affectionately.

"Promise me you won't get in any more fights this year, Ani."

"I promise," he murmured, and she kissed his temple lightly.  
  


* * *

  
After they'd eaten and had a brief fight over splitting the bill (Anakin insisted on paying for all of it, and Padmé told him in no uncertain terms where he could stick that outdatedly 'chivalrous' idea of his), Padmé led the way out of the industrial district towards the enormous city library. Both of them did a fair amount of window-shopping on the way, Padmé stopping every time they passed a book store to peer curiously at the window displays and evaluate the pros and cons of spending too many credits on books that weren't essential to her studies versus the joys of new books, and Anakin got far too excited about a scrapyard and speeder parts shop just after Dex's diner. He was searching how much it would cost to build his own TIE-fighter on his holo when Padmé yanked it out of his hands with a teasing smile and an "Anakin, _no_."

"Anakin, _yes_ ," he insisted, laughing, and grabbed it back, holding her away at arm's length as he investigated the parts he would need in the shop window and wondered whether he would be able to store them under the same tarpaulin as his not-strictly-entirely-legal podracer in the college basement. Padmé's "Anakin, _no_!"s steadily increased in volume until she was laughing breathlessly, shaking her head and fighting to take the holo off him again. They tussled like a pair of pups until the stares and disapproving mutters of passers-by made Padmé flop onto his back in defeat, still giggling. Anakin hefted her up carefully into a piggy-back and, ignoring her squeals of protest, carried her the rest of the way to the library whilst Padmé sighed and simply tightened her arms around his neck in resignation.  
  


* * *

  
Having left Padmé at the library, Anakin returned to his own dormitory to freshen up. He left the shower with hair dripping over his shoulders, towel around his waist, and opened his holo to bring up the essay assignments due for Dr. Yoda's Forces module. The deadline was approaching at a rate he was slightly alarmed by, but it shouldn't be too much of a problem; he'd always had a scientific mind and had found every assignment set so far this year so mind-numbingly easy that it took several days to get bored enough to get around to doing them. He settled on his bed to start writing, tapping his pen against his note paper, and tried to think of the most complex way to tackle the problem set. It was basically just Coulomb's law and in which instances it did and did not apply to electromagnetic engineering, something Anakin could answer in his sleep. He gave it twenty minutes of work before closing his notepad and laying back on the bed, allowing his mind to wander.

Naturally, it wandered in the direction of Obi-Wan and his seminars, and Anakin bit his lip, remembering his seminar leader's sparkling green eyes and soft, commanding voice. It didn't take long to remember also the fantasy he had had last week of being bent over Obi-Wan's lap in front of the whole class and spanked, and Anakin let out a soft sigh of frustration as his cock gave an interested twitch beneath his towel. It was pathetic how often he got himself into this situation; having to run home after seminars for a frantic wank in his bedroom, stifling his moans into his fist and trying not to think about how much he wished his own hand were Obi-Wan's. Ahsoka would laugh herself sick if she knew, and Quin too.

Fighting it was doing him no good, however, so he resignedly unknotted his towel and allowed his hand to slide down his chest to play with the short, soft hairs below his navel, teasing himself. He bit his lip, inching his hand further down to trail his fingers, feather-light, over his cock, which was rapidly hardening to lie against his stomach, tip wet with precome. He wrapped his fingers around it gently, rubbing his thumb over the slit, and gasped, canting his hips up and shuddering on the bed. Fuck. Apparently masturbating furiously three days a week for a month didn't take the edge off it at all. He stroked slowly, moving his hand up and down, and bit another whimper back, closing his eyes and allowing himself to get lost in fantasy.

Obi-Wan was leaning over him, green eyes dark and pupils blown with lust, and his hand was torturously slow over Anakin's dick, teasing, as he smirked down at him. His fingers toyed loosely with Anakin's foreskin, drawing it lightly back and forth over the tip of his cock, thumb smoothing over the slit to spread the wetness over glistening skin. Anakin writhed on the bed, gasping cries becoming high and thin with need, hips arching up into the loose grip of Obi-Wan's fist, imaginary hands both fisted in the duvets as he forced himself not to just take what he wanted. Obi-Wan would demand they take things at his pace; he would know right off the bat that it was being controlled and denied that got Anakin off like nothing else, and he'd undoubtedly use that to his advantage.

"No touching," imaginary Obi-Wan purred as he shifted to straddle Anakin's thighs, glancing playfully at his cock and teasing with another slow slide from root to tip, licking his lips.

"Please," Anakin choked out, hips thrusting into Obi-Wan's fist, and then sobbed when Obi-Wan pressed his hips flat to the bed with one hand. "Please, please, sir-"

"No. Good boys take what they're given and nothing more."

Anakin writhed, trying to arch his back, begging for more, tighter, harder; Obi-Wan just laughed, his free hand playing with Anakin's balls before trickling his fingers down to press against his entrance, too light to push in but enough for Anakin to feel it.

He jolted on the bed, letting go of himself, heart hammering in his chest. _Fuck_.

He rolled over, hanging off the edge of the bed and searching underneath for the shoebox of toys he kept hidden from nosy friends and roommates (meaning, essentially, Ahsoka). He eventually found it just as he was reaching so far he toppled off the bed, and landed with a shout of surprise and mild pain on the floorboards of his dormitory bedroom. Grasping the box, he dragged it out, opening it up to pick through the modest selection of toys and accessories to find his favourite dildo. Extra firm and a fetching if unrealistic bright pink colour, it was Anakin's old reliable in terms of getting him quickly to toe-curling orgasms. He was already shivering excitedly as he lifted it out of the box, rifling through all of the other plugs and vibrators in there to find his lube and a condom.

His erection had flagged a little in between falling off the bed and lubing up his fingers, but the moment Anakin pressed his middle finger to his entrance it returned with a vengeance. He bit his lip to stifle his groan as his finger sank in to the knuckle on the first push, hips twitching as he fought to keep still instead of pressing back against the teasing touches. He closed his eyes again, imagining Obi-Wan's hand coaxing his body loose, pressing another finger inside and gasping softly as he brushed his prostate.

Fire was curling in his belly. Anakin rolled his hips up desperately, crooking his fingers, rubbing over his prostate; his legs trembled, his breathing getting shallower and harsher as he whimpered Obi-Wan's name into the still air of his room. Imaginary Obi-Wan purred again, rewarding him with faster movements, making 'come hither' gestures inside him to stroke torturously over his sweet spot, smirking as Anakin's head tossed on the pillow, flushed, hair sticking to his skin with sweat, making him cry out louder and louder. Anakin swore as he jammed his hips down onto his own fingers, trying to force them even deeper, wailing when they reached their limit. Not enough - never enough - he needed _more_ -

Three fingers made him howl, bucking desperately, wrapping his free hand around his cock to jerk himself off frantically. " _Oh - **oh**_ \- Obi-Wan -" he whined, feeling the pleasure building in his abdomen, racing toward his balls and threatening to spill at any moment. Shuddering, he pulled his fingers out and sloppily tore the condom packet open with his teeth, fumbling the latex down over the dildo before pressing it between his legs. He whined, high in his throat, when it bottomed out, the sting of penetration making him hiss before he canted his hips and stirred the toy inside him, biting his lip as it rubbed over his sweet spot.

Casting his head to the side, he caught a glimpse of his desk chair. Inspiration struck and he eased the toy out of himself - whimpering at the empty sensation - and quickly scrambled off the bed, crossing the room and slapping the suction cup on the base of the dildo down on the smooth seat, giving it a careful waggle to make sure it was attached. When he was satisfied that it was, he straddled the chair and carefully sank himself back down onto the toy, shuddering as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm him completely. The moment passed quickly and he started to grind his hips back and forth, flinging his head back with a yell and supporting himself desperately on the edge of the desk as he fucked himself frantically on the toy.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, fist flying back and forth over himself, and gave a cry as he felt his balls contract and orgasm flood through him. He came with a shriek, painting his chest with ropes of come and kicking the edge of the desk hard when his legs jerked uncontrollably. He rode it out for several seconds before collapsing breathlessly against the desk, skin sticking to the plastic top with sweat, chest heaving. His neighbour was banging on the wall, telling him it was three in the goddamn afternoon and that some people had exams this week, and he grinned sheepishly to himself, too sated to really care.  
  


* * *

  
The on-campus café was full of students with cups of syrups masquerading as coffee when Qui-Gon saw Obi-Wan stumbling through the door. The weather outside was mild for October, but Obi-Wan was bundled up as always, a scarf around his neck and his slim, wiry body padded and hidden by a thick Fair Isle jersey. Papers from his satchel fluttered around his ankles on the draught from the door, and a nearby Twi'lek student Qui-Gon vaguely recognised bent down to help him gather them up, fluttering her long eyelashes at him. Obi-Wan smiled shyly and thanked her, clutching the papers to his chest as he spotted Qui-Gon waiting at the table and quickly slumped down into the sofa against the wall, rubbing his temples.

"It looks like it's been a long weekend, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said with a mischievous smile, gesturing at Obi-Wan's unruly hair and rumpled sweater. Obi-Wan glowered, unimpressed, and unravelled his scarf from around his neck, scratching at his beard lightly with his fingernails. Qui-Gon smiled at the waitress behind the bar to let her know that he was ready to order something and Obi-Wan stretched his back out, raising his arms above his head until his spine creaked and he felt the tension between his shoulder blades loosen, sighing in relief.

"A very long weekend. Not helped by wondering how I'm going to try and keep one of my students' interest this week. I swear, he doesn't even need me there. He could lead this class himself."

"Skywalker?" Qui-Gon asked with a knowing grin, and Obi-Wan sighed and nodded.

"He's so far advanced beyond the rest of them... I know it's an introductory module, but for the life of me I've no idea why he's not already been started on third-year modules, just to challenge him. There's very little I can really teach him that he doesn't already know, so he gets bored and starts being... disruptive." _Distracting_ would be a better way of putting it, he thought to himself, visualising Anakin's slouched posture in his chair, legs spread wide beneath the desk, that becoming flush on his cheeks and the slight hitch in the boy's breathing whenever Obi-Wan leaned forward to elaborate on a point. He was fairly sure he'd heard him gasp when he turned round last week. Obi-Wan had had to fight back the instantaneous burst of curiosity and pleasure, and did his best to fix the kid with a stern glance and ignore the speeding of his own heart beneath the thick wool of his sweater.

"He's the same in lectures," Qui-Gon told him, spinning the silver ring on his middle finger around and around. "Sits in the back and talks through the entire thing like he thinks I can't see him, obviously not paying the blindest bit of notice, but I call on him for an answer and he gets it spot on every time. I ask him things I wouldn't ask Masters students and he at least takes a crack at it, and he's never far off... He's too advanced for the level he's at. But his work is lazy, like he doesn't even think it's worth the bother, and that drags his grades down. He's bright but frustrated, and I can't blame him. I've brought it up with Windu a thousand times, but he insists that Skywalker is where he belongs in an undergrad programme and that they can't make accessions for one student." He sighed. "Easy for Windu to say. He's never taught the kid."

Obi-Wan nodded wryly. "I could try to give him extra, higher-level work to keep him occupied but that will only make the problem worse next year. At this rate he'll be taking a PhD before he's twenty."

Qui-Gon chuckled and nodded. "I certainly wouldn't put it past him."

"I had something else I have been meaning to discuss with you about Skywalker," Obi-Wan began haltingly, not entirely sure how to proceed. What was the best way to broach the fact that one of your students flirted outrageously with you in class, deliberately and systematically hitting every goddamn button you have, knowing full well you can't do anything about it? Obi-Wan was lucky he had a desk in his seminar room; that way he didn't have to get up at the end of class until his erection had softened enough to be unnoticeable, a trick he had a feeling Anakin had been adopting as well from the way he would stay ten, fifteen minutes over time and ask long, convoluted questions about obscure pieces of theory. "He has a tendency to... make himself a distraction in class."

"To other students?"

"...No." Obi-Wan flushed pink, and Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows before chuckling, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Ah. I understand."

"He sits with his legs wide open and biting his lip and he's obviously trying to get under my skin-" and it's working - "and he doesn't give me a moment's peace. Every time I turn to look at him he's got the kind of expression that wouldn't look out of place on a porn star on his face, and I can feel his eyes on the back of my neck whatever I do. It's driving me to distraction."

"I know. I've been getting your emails. 'When the fuck is he ever going to stop-'" Qui-Gon read out from his holo, smirking, " _and I quote_."

Obi-Wan shoved his hand down, blushing brighter in embarrassment. "It's ridiculous."

"It's a schoolboy crush," Qui-Gon soothed, shaking his head in amusement. "I'm sure you had plenty on your teachers at school, and probably well into university as well. My classics lecturer was gorgeous, long dark hair and an hourglass figure she certainly knew how to flaunt. It's a fact of life. Attractive people get kids crushing on them - even unattractive people. I can think of a few students who even had crushes on Dr. Tiure from the Business department." They both shuddered at the thought of anybody finding Jabba, with his huge, slack, froglike face and his thick, sluglike form strapped into a too-tight business jacket even remotely attractive; Obi-Wan was having to choke back bile when Qui-Gon continued. "So it's no surprise that you, one of the younger members of staff in this department and considerably easier on the eyes than Dr. Tiure, would have at least one student trying to catch your attention. Just ignore it, it'll die down eventually."

Obi-Wan nodded resignedly. "I suppose. Hopefully sooner rather than later."

Qui-Gon laughed.

The waitress brought them both steaming mugs of jawa juice, which they sipped slowly as they went through the pile of marked essays Obi-Wan had brought with him, all from third-year students on the engineering course Qui-Gon taught. Obi-Wan had done a good job, marking fairly and with consideration to each student's strengths and weaknesses, which Qui-Gon praised him for. All in all, there were very few changes he had to make, other than the odd adjustment to a student's grade when he felt Obi-Wan had been too lenient.

Obi-Wan's holo pinged as they were looking over the tenth essay, an email coming through from Mace, the head of department, notifying him of a meeting of all the staff and associate lecturers this coming Monday. Obi-Wan groaned, running a hand through his wind-mussed hair in exasperation. Dr. Windu organised more interdepartmental meetings for the Engineering school than every other department put together, he was sure of it. He voiced this concern to Qui-Gon, who snorted into his mug and nodded, eyes glittering with amusement.

"Probably." He took another swallow of his jawa juice and rolled his eyes. "Although you've only been invited to about half of them. They're practically twice a week for the permanent members of staff. I've no idea how he has the time to think of all the things he brings up at them, either." He sighed. "Ninety percent of the time it's just him telling me that if I put through a request for Anakin Skywalker to be skipped to the next level one more time, he's going to disembowel me with his stapler. I might have to do it again," he grinned, "just to find out how he's planning to do that."

Obi-Wan laughed and flipped to the next essay in the stack.  
  


* * *

  
Walking into the seminar room on Monday, Obi-Wan noticed immediately that Skywalker had vacated his usual middle row seat to place himself at the front, nearest the desk and the board. He was sat innocently enough, upright rather than slouched for once and with his head in his textbook, flipped at least six chapters ahead of where they were currently. Obi-Wan dared to breathe a sigh of relief; perhaps this would be the one seminar he'd be able to get through without Anakin making a nuisance of himself.

He started the class as usual, passing the register around and glancing over the class to make sure everyone was signing their names in attendance. There was a couple of people absent, he noted, but this week wasn't anything particularly essential for exams or midterms, so he didn't have to worry about sending catch-up work to them via the university emailing system. He pulled up the presentation on the interactive screen and was just getting started with explaining the finer points of Faraday's law before feeling, as if by intuition, Anakin's eyes land on the back of his head and hearing a soft intake of breath. He stiffened slightly, already anticipating whatever mayhem Anakin was determined to wreak on him this week, before the boy spoke.

"Sir, should we not be learning Faraday's chemical law for electrical engineering?"

Obi-Wan blinked, frowning slightly, and took a moment to collect his thoughts before answering. "Well, Anakin, if you'll just let me get through this slide then I will have explained exactly why you all need to know Faraday's _electromagnetic_ laws and what they can do for you when you're doing the lab Qui-Gon is running this week-"

"But if we're building, I don't know, navigational chips for a star speeder, those aren't going to help us. Magnetic fields aren't used for anything nowadays, that's ancient engineering-"

"With all due respect, Anakin, that is engineering that has been used to great effect during my own lifetime," Obi-Wan said dryly, "and believe me, I'm not that much older than you." The class laughed and Anakin shrugged with a small, slightly embarrassed smile. Obi-Wan grinned and continued. "As for the programming concerns, that's a question for your computational intelligence lecturer, I'm afraid, Anakin, not for me. Now, Faraday's electromagnetic law is essential to-"

"I understand that electromagnetics are still used in some of the older models of generators and things, like republican-class cruisers where ships have the space and the manpower for them to be necessary. But they don't have anything to do with the example of actually trying to use processors for ship operating systems like I asked about? And besides, anything we're engineering nowadays has to be able to be flown by _modern_ artificial intelligence such as droids as well. Surely the whole point of making advances in engineering is to replace obsolete technology-"

"Anakin, first of all, I may seem like I've been around longer than Dr. Yoda to you, but I haven't. Nothing about this technology is outdated or obsolete, hence why the university still considers it relevant to be taught to you." He glowered at the boy who was still looking like he was about to protest. "And furthermore, contrary to what you appear to have read on your timetable, this class is not Building A Starship 101. That's what the holoweb is for." He regretted his outburst of temper almost immediately, especially when several students snickered behind their hands and Anakin leant back in his seat with a stung expression, but huffed and straightened himself out to try and calm down. Nevertheless, he did whisper under his breath, "I swear, I'll take that boy over my knee and beat the insolence out of him..."

A sharp intake of breath in front of him made his head shoot up to see Anakin, suddenly flushed bright red and squirming in his seat, biting his lip. There was a pleading expression in his eyes as he stared right at Obi-Wan, seeming to beg for exactly that - and his thighs were spread so wide under the desk that Obi-Wan could see the outline of his cock straining at the fly of those stupidly tight jeans.

Interesting. Forgetting completely about his previous irritation with the boy, Obi-Wan fought back a grin, allowing himself to indulge in visions of bending the kid over his desk and dragging his jeans down to spank him. Anakin would flush even brighter, probably struggle weakly to get away - even though both of them knew he didn't really want to - and push his ass back against Obi-Wan's hand, breathing a "Please, sir..." in that husky voice of his. Obi-Wan paused, Qui-Gon's words echoing in his ears again. Surely he wouldn't really do that with a student?

Not with just any student, no. But one who blushed so beautifully at the mere mention of spanking...

"Anakin," he said sternly, trying to keep his voice level, "I am trying to teach the rest of the class what they need to know. If you consider yourself too advanced for this, or in the wrong classroom, I apologise, but I am not in a position to move you up a year into classes that will be more your speed. I am trying to do my job as a seminar leader and teach. I would respectfully ask you to do your job and be, if not a student, then a quiet observer instead of distracting both me and your classmates." He scratched his beard agitatedly, catching sight of Anakin's wide, damp blue eyes following the movement of his hand before flashing back up to his face.

The kid was still staring up at him unabashedly, doe-eyed and flushed. Anakin nodded, bowing his head obediently, with a breathy, "Sorry, sir," that went straight to Obi-Wan's cock. The boy had gone from challenging to submissive so fast it was going to give him whiplash, but damn him if it didn't make Obi-Wan's pulse race in the side of his neck and give him another pleasant frisson of excitement down his spine. That subservient upward gaze, the slightly-open mouth displaying full red lips, and the glassy, pleasured expression in Anakin's eyes... Hell, he was going to hell. What had Qui-Gon said? _Ignore it. It'll pass eventually_.

How could he ignore it when the kid was staring at him like he was two seconds away from flinging himself down on the floor and begging for it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you were wondering (you probably weren't) what Anakin was playing with this chapter: [Colours Pleasure Thin Realistic Dildo with Suction Cup, 7.5in](http://www.lovehoney.co.uk/product.cfm?p=34710). And don't worry. The other contents of the Shoebox of Pleasure will definitely be making an appearance in later chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> There are (slightly spoilery) fanmixes for the boys here on my 8tracks, featuring the songs which chapter names come from:
> 
> [Anakin mix](http://8tracks.com/bilskirnir/fluorescent-adolescent) / [tracklist](http://stxrwarss.tumblr.com/post/138312455567/he-was-captivating-long-lanky-clothes-hanging)  
> [Obi-Wan mix](http://8tracks.com/bilskirnir/not-much-for-words) / [tracklist](http://stxrwarss.tumblr.com/post/138313111427/of-everything-anakin-loved-about-his-engineering)
> 
> People who have read _[Learning Curve](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854306)_ , the story is that Anakin and Padme did grow up together, but that they got separated when they started high school. Anakin was sent to the same high school as Padme at first, but after his mother died and he moved into his foster parents' house, he was sent to the Catholic boys' school referenced in _Learning Curve_. They stayed in touch, however, and were dating for most of Anakin's senior year and into first year at university.


End file.
